


in light of everything

by plethola



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, brief instances of angst, original character deaths, people get wounded, some cheating happens, there are orphans, this is post-apocalypse!, wild animals are hunted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plethola/pseuds/plethola
Summary: alternate title: one in a million. a series where a meteorite hits the planet, triggering a large, ongoing storm that destroys half of the world's population, forcing humanity to band together and fight a constant battle against flooding and storms. jihyo and nayeon live at the foot of mount hallasan in jeju-do, one of the few surviving settlements of the newly formed "unified korean republic." they meet several people over the course of a year. this is a soon-to-be-lengthy series that focuses on love, loss, and the promise of a better future! plenty of romance/angst/drama/plot!





	1. the story begins

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! this is ongoing. a lot of thought and research went into this, but probably not enough. despite how deep it all seems, this is ultimately intended to be a fic about ships! if anything seems off to you, plot-wise and location wise, i will listen to your input. thank you!

> _Jihyo put on a thick cloak and left the cottage in the early morning. She took the Seongpanak up the side of the mountain, wading carefully through the dense fog. As she climbed, the air cleared up, got brighter, and the instinct she was operating on was revealed to be correct. A group of roe were drinking water from one of the ponds near the summit._
> 
> _She hopped over the wooden railing and sat down in a dip in the rocky ground, drinking hot tea from her thermos. Jihyo knew that the roe kept this routine because, this far up the mountain, for years and years, the animals were protected by the government, and had faced very few natural dangers. Places like the pond were their comfort spots. Jihyo felt that it was a little like watching people get up and brush their teeth in the morning. She laughed at the mental image of roe gathered around a sink, but it was only funny for a moment. She turned and watched the roe. They began licking rocks, which Jihyo could only guess were salt deposits. The biggest of them, a roebuck in his prime, pulled his massive, horned head back, giving Jihyo the impression that he was finished with his breakfast._
> 
> _“I truly hope you enjoyed it,” whispered Jihyo._
> 
> _Jihyo slowly let out the air from her lungs. When she was sure of the animal’s position in her mind, she brought her bow up and carefully nocked an arrow on the string…_

 

* * *

 

Nayeon woke up, reaching for Jihyo in the darkness of their bedroom. The blankets beside her were bare. Groggy, she stood up, arched her back in a cat-like stretch, and walked up to the coat rack. Sure enough, Jihyo’s big, gray cloak was missing.

Hadn’t she said something about a hunch she had the night before? Nayeon hoped that whatever Jihyo was doing was safe. Three years back, when Jihyo was first climbing the mountain with the other hunters, she had taken a serious fall that injured her knees, and it’s made Nayeon paranoid ever since. After several months of healing and Nayeon sprouting a few gray hairs, Jihyo swore to her that she would keep to man-made trails from then on. Knowing how passionate the girl could get, Nayeon suspected that Jihyo only mostly fulfilled the promise.

Nayeon did her morning exercises, which really only consisted of some yoga videos she rented at the library. When she was done, she climbed a little up the slope of their yard and scanned the breadth of northern Jeju, her hands forming a visor over her eyes. The weather seemed okay, as always, but it suited Nayeon to always stay ahead of potnetial disaster. They were living in the aftermath of the apocalypse, after all.

Nayeon checked her garden. She was surprised at how neat everything was. She was glad Jihyo encouraged her to do the extra work and print labels for the plants. The sweet potato section looked so enticing.

When she was finished weeding, she went inside and booted the computer to check her emails. A newsletter from the capital was the latest thing. A grim reminder in bold text about how half the world’s population was still missing and unaccounted for, even after several years of reconstruction, so “please say some prayers to those affected,” as well as another smaller reminder to watch out for sudden tidal waves.The rest of the newsletter were stories about the Capital organizing visits throughout the new Unified Korean Republic, as well as other public works.

Nayeon shook her head as she scrolled through the pictures. Some of these government agents were once entertainers and singers; most of Seoul and the surrounding districts narrowly survived the cataclysm, so there were people from all industries and professions brought together in the same role. That all seemed like a lifetime ago, though. Maybe it was because she was still young when it happened, but Nayeon couldn’t picture these smiling people as anything other than public servants.

In one picture, a hundred or so people in UKR uniforms were on the battered shoreline of Busan, wearing masks and picking up debris. Though she missed the city, Nayeon counted herself lucky that she was far away from the heart of the disaster relief. Almost every urban area and place of industry in the world was either flooded or destroyed completely by a combination of heavy cyclones and extreme temperatures.

“That’s enough of that,” she said, and opened the government-funded SNS. Nayeon was greeted by a picture featuring a pretty girl around her own age, surrounded by a large group of smiling children.

“If you’re having a gloomy day, the kids at Uijeongbu Orphanage want you to cheer up!” said the caption to the picture. “My name is Lee Jieun, and I run a shelter and orphanage for displaced children. We thank you for the kind food donations many of you have sent our way. The children are doing well. As sad as it sounds, our streets are still heavily affected by the cataclysm, and many are living alone in severe poverty, with few amenities. Please send any homeless children our way, where they can at least find warmth, a sense of belonging and a decent meal. Click the link below to see our sister shelters that provide resources for homeless adults. Thank you!”

Nayeon walked outside and took in the morning air. How long had Jihyo been gone? The sky was clear, but the air was still crisp and cold. The horizon bore a permanent dark scar where the worst of the storms still churned, continents away. It still didn’t seem real to her.

Where would Nayeon be in fifty years? According to all the meteorological forecasts, that’s when the storms would finally calm down, and when people no longer had to fight back the constant flow of water. Scientists say that the world would be permanently changed, that overall there’d be a significant loss of land, and the meteorite impact would have already altered the planet’s atmosphere beyond repair. Would she be an old woman by the time she returned to Seoul?

Her thoughts were broken by a sound in the brush beside her. She swiveled round and breathed a sigh of relief. It was only one of the village children.

“Unnie,” said the little girl. “We’re all gathering in the village square. We have visitors.”

“Visitors?” said Nayeon, wrinkling her forehead in disbelief. “We haven’t had visitors in several months, and we aren’t expecting the UKR yet. Who is it?”

“Uh,” said the girl. “Mama says it’s foreigners.”

“I’ll be right down. No, don’t go back on your own. I’ll go down the mountain with you.”

The little girl was visibly relieved. “Thank you, Unnie. I should know how to climb the trails by now, says Mama. I know how, but it’s still scary.”

Nayeon smiled down at her. “I understand, honey. Come inside while you wait.”

The water heater was still warm when Nayeon switched it back on. She put on a sweater and a coat as the water bubbled. When she was dressed, she poured out a cup of tea for the little girl, who sat and let the steaming cup warm her hands.

“You don’t have gloves?”

“I don’t like wearing them. They’re itchy.”

“You should wear them, anyway. Your mama will worry sick. And if your mama worries, us mountain unnies will worry, too.”

“Sorry. I’ll remember for next time.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sera. Yun Sera.”

“A pretty name. How old are you, Sera?”

“Ten.”

“Ah,” said Nayeon, and sat across from her. “I talk to your other family a lot, but I never seem to see you around.”

“My mama wants me to focus on my studies,” said Sera. “I don’t know why. There’s no schools anymore. I don’t have to learn anything. Not really.”

“Your mama is only looking out for you. It might sound weird now, but listen to your mama while you still can.” Nayeon sipped her own cup of tea. “There will come a day when you’re old enough, and will want to do anything except listen to your mama. Even then, listen to her. While you still have your mama, listen to her. Just trust me.”

Sera frowned up at the older girl. “The ocean won’t take mama away, will it?”

Nayeon reached forward and squeezed the little girl’s cheeks. “Did I say that?” she said, laughing. “You silly pumpkin-faced child. I just mean that your mama works harder than you think. You should be nicer to her. What she says and does is good for you, even if it doesn’t make sense at first. And you come to your older sister Nayeonnie if you ever really get mad at your mama, and she’ll listen to your troubles, okay?”

“Okay,” said Sera, sipping her tea a little, and making a face at how bitter it was.

“Oh gosh, I forgot the sugar,” said Nayeon. “Here. Take this lid and drink it as we go down. I promise you that it’s good. Are you ready to go back?”

The little girl nodded.

They took the Gwaneumsa trail down the mountain. The Hallasan Mountain National Park, once bustling with tourists, was largely deserted, and now known as The Reserve. Caretakers, like Jihyo and Nayeon, lived along its slope, and the village people, about five thousand or more, lived at the foot of the mountain to the north, a population consisting of most of the remaining Jeju natives, as well as mainland refugees.

Two years ago, the village construction team finished the land bridges that connected all the trails in a large pentagon, which made it much easier to navigate the mountain and create new settlements for extensive research on the local plants and animals. It took Nayeon and Sera a little less than thirty minutes to reach the foot of the mountain because of these bridges.

The same year the bridges were built, Jihyo and Nayeon volunteered for the Gwaneumsa/Seongpanak junction, with a role of tracking the population of larger mammals, such as wild boar and roe. The move also functioned as a sort of getaway for the two of them, whose relationship the villagers would have had trouble receiving, even if the world and, by extension, the older society, had already ended.

Sera was tougher than Nayeon thought, walking casually over some of the rougher areas with no complaint. No wonder they let her navigate the maze-like trail system on her own. When they reached the gate that led to the village proper, Sera turned to Nayeon.

“I finished it, Unnie,” said Sera, handing her the empty thermos. “And I forgot to warn you. The foreigners are scary.”

“Scary, huh?” said Nayeon, her curiosity spiking. Newcomers to Mount Hallasan Village was exciting news enough, but could they be bandits? There were reports of such activities on the mainland, but to have them come to Jeju was unthinkable.

Nayeon held Sera’s hand as they entered the council room in the village library, a post-cataclysm building that had archives from libraries all over the ruined city of Jeju, which formed the backdrop to the village along with the relatively peaceful waters of the Jeju Strait. A storm hasn’t hit the island since the first hurricane, many years back.

The newcomers sat at the front, facing the council and a large group of villagers. One had long, wavy brown hair, and the other bright blonde: both unnatural colors. Their manner of dress was bizarre, skin-tight in the few areas that covered their skin, and large coats of what looked like real fur hanging loosely over their bodies. They were certainly dressed like the kind of bandits you encountered in video games, thought Nayeon. They were both strikingly beautiful, though.

“I’m telling you,” said wavy, brown hair girl, with an accent very similar to country people from the mainland. She was a foreigner, that’s for sure, but she almost spoke like a native. “We’re not bandits. We’re travelers. We arrived on Jeju Island several months ago, on the eastern coast.”

“That’s impossible,” said a council member. “The eastern coast is almost entirely flooded. We have UKR people salvaging in that area all the time.”

“We came on a UKR ship,” said the foreigner girl. “You aren’t listening to me. We came on a ship! From the UKR! We were living in Seoul for many years. Then we took the boat here from Busan Port. Lawfully, I should add. But we got stranded on Udo.”

Some murmurs rippled through the room. Udo, thought Nayeon. Udo isn’t under the ocean by now? It’s just a smaller islet off of Jeju’s eastern coast.

“There’s a lot of friendly people on Udo,” said the foreigner girl. “A lot of hunters. Our clothes were damaged from the boat, so we wore stuff like this a lot. It’s actually very warm.”

“I don’t know if we should be trusting the words of these strange women,” said one of the council members. “They seem to be Japanese, after all. And there’s talk of raiding parties from Kyushu.”

“We’re not bandits!” shouted the blond girl, which surprised most of the people gathered in the room. She shrunk down a little after her outburst, but kept a steady volume that made her seem louder than she originally was. “Sorry. But we aren’t. There might be bandits or pirates on the ocean, but we aren’t one of them. Kyushu is full of kind people. Someone is waiting for us in Nagasaki city. A friend. And don’t call us strange women. My name is Hirai Momo, and this is Minatozaki Sana. We mean no harm.”

Her Korean was more disjointed, as if she were actively thinking of her choice of words. Regardless, she was strangely coherent, thought Nayeon. The way she commanded the room spoke of experience communicating to people whatever was on her mind, however obscure. The language barrier did not seem to matter.

“You’re heading to Nagasaki?” said Nayeon, stepping forward.

“You’re here, Nayeon,” said the librarian. “We found these girls loitering at the foot of one of your trails only an hour ago. We asked them to come here and meet with you. Dealing with visitors is under your and Jihyo’s jurisdiction, after all. Is this your first time seeing them?”

“That’s right,” said Nayeon. “Nice to meet you. My name is Im Nayeon. I want to know why the two of you came to Jeju if you’re headed for Japan.”

“You know what the ocean’s like,” said Sana, smiling at Nayeon. “No one can be on it for long. And air traffic is heavily restricted, due to the limited quantities of fuel, as you know. We decided that taking things one hop at a time was the safest way to make it across.”

“If that’s so, why did you head back west across the island? It’s not a short walk. It would be better to take a boat to Japan from Udo.”

Sana shook her head. “There are boats in Udo, but no one wants to sail to Japan. Absolutely no one. We were very thorough in asking. And Udo doesn’t get boats that aren’t from Korea’s port cities. So we went to you guys, with the hope of petitioning the UKR when they visit you next.”

“Hm,” said Nayeon. “That won’t be for many more months. How exactly would you petition them?”

“We are going to ask for a private plane ride,” said Momo. “A one-way to Nagasaki.”

“Let me clarify,” said Sana. “We have a friend in Nagasaki. Her name is Myoui Mina. She really wants the two of us home. She’s a seasoned pilot, and she has her own biplane.”

A councilwoman rubbed her forehead. “They’re still flying planes in Japan? How carefree of them.”

“The air force is still active, yes,” said Sana. “Honshu is at the heart of the Fertile Scar of the world, and one of the least affected areas in Japan and, really, the entire planet. Mina is based in Kobe. She’s intending to come to Jeju right now, to pick us up, and has been living in Nagasaki for years now for that role alone. But the UKR is refusing to allow her in their airspace.”

“Why?” said Nayeon.

“Bandits,” said Sana, smiling. “They’re afraid that any planes that come from Japan are meant to raid what’s left of Korea. There’s no stopping Honshu Central from flying over anyway, but we are trying to form a peaceful relationship with the UKR at this time, especially with how fragile societal tensions are in the world right now. It’s slow going, but almost every nation in the Pacific is slowly reaching out to each other.”

“All this for you and Momo?” said Nayeon. “I find that a little hard to believe.”

Sana looked at her friend and smiled. “Me and Momo are special. Isn’t that right, Momo?”

“Special?” said Nayeon. “Special how?”

“We work for the Japanese government. We are the new official Japanese ambassadors for the entire East China Sea region,” said Sana. “But we need to be trained in the mainland first, of course. Hence the escort.”

The room stirred. Nayeon crossed her arms. If Japan was already appointing ambassadors, it meant that they were already reaching out to other countries, something the UKR really hasn’t done beyond the reconciliation talks in what remained of North Korea. This meant that the girls in front of her represented the futures of several countries, making them beyond valuable.

The meeting dispersed, and Sana, Momo and Nayeon walked apart from the other villagers, to one end of the library. Ultimately, it had been decided that the two Japanese girls would stay with Nayeon until further notice. The Jeju representative would be there within the next month or so, and they could petition if they wanted to. In the meantime, the villagers elected the girls to use an empty cottage on the trail really only meant for storage and, if possible, would Nayeon "please give them better clothes?"

“I like my coat,” said Momo.

“So do I,” said Sana.

“No,” said Nayeon. “You have to cover up. It gets cold here. Why did you guys become ambassadors?”

“Truthfully,” said Sana. “I miss my family in Osaka. That’s why I volunteered. It was a lot of work, but it was a free ticket back home. Momo and I are always together, so she did the same thing. Then our pen pal, Mina, joined the air force to help us out. As for the last part, why the three of us are working together and why we were chosen out of everyone else, that is top secret.”

“You said you came from Seoul,” said Nayeon. “What were you doing in Seoul before all this?”

“That’s right. We were training there to be idols. Can you imagine? Idols. That all seems silly now, with the world in pieces like it is.”

“How funny,” said Nayeon. “I was also a trainee.”

“Small world,” said Momo, smiling at Nayeon, and making her heart flutter a bit. These girls really were pretty on a celebrity level. She shouldn’t have been surprised at them being former trainees.

“I don’t understand, though,” said Nayeon. “Why you two? You’re over twenty, but you’re still pretty much just kids.”

“The kids run the show now,” said Sana. “And it’s not like Japan is completely unaffected, even being in a relatively safe area. Millions still died, and many are still suffering the effects. A lot of these afflicted people would have made better candidates. But how do I say this in your language? We were here at the right time, when Japan needed people like me and Momo the most. And we’re young and energetic. That’s why we volunteered and were chosen. There are more reasons, too, but they’re top secret.”

“Secret, huh?” said Nayeon. “Forget idols. You must be celebrities in Japan, now.”

“If you put it that way, sure,” said Sana. “When we got elected as ambassadors, all of Japan knew our names through social media. Me and Momo aim to be the ones to hold a treaty signing with your UKR and our HC. We’re being cheered on. I guess the Japanese people are desperate for better contact with foreign nations. No one talks to each other these days. The old Internet’s servers are mostly dead, buried under hundreds of tons of water. Satellites are quiet. Even the United States is dark.”

Sera walked up to the three of them and clung to Nayeon’s skirt. Momo got down to the little girl’s level and smiled kindly at her.

“You were the little one that called us bandits this morning,” said Momo. “You got us into a lot of trouble, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” said Sera. “You’re not bandits, then?”

“Sorry to disappoint you. We’re the good guys.”

“From Japan?”

“Made in Japan, yes.”

Nayeon looked at her watch. It was nearly ten o’clock in the morning.

“Come on, Jihyo,” said Nayeon. “Where are you?”

“Who’s Jihyo?” said Sana. “Is it someone you’re meeting down here? We can tag along. We don’t need to go to your mountain cottage right away, if you have errands to run. Me and Momo can even help.”

“No, it’s not that,” said Nayeon. “My… partner. Jihyo. She lives with me. She went out to track a group of roe earlier this morning. She said she was just going to take a look last night, so she should have been back when I woke up.”

“So we really should go back to your home, then,” said Sana. “Your Jihyo might be there.”

“Your partner,” said Momo, narrowing her eyes at Nayeon. “Jihyo, was it? I think I might have seen her right before we were escorted to the village. She was running in the distance. A girl in a cloak. Don’t you remember, Sanacchi?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Sana. “That cute girl with the bow and arrows. She seemed busy. Occupied. We were going to go up and talk to her. But instead we were, uhm. Politely arrested by your villagers.”

“No one else your age lives on the mountain, right?” said Momo.

“No,” said Nayeon. Her heart gradually began to sink when she realized the implication. Her legs gave away, but Momo caught her before she hit the ground.

“She was running? And it was off the trail?” said Nayeon, wide-eyed, panic in her voice. “Something is wrong. We have to get back.”

“Whoa, whoa,” said Sana grabbing Nayeon by the shoulders. “I get the feeling that something is out of place here, but you shouldn’t jump to the worst conclusion, no matter how bad it seems. Breathe. Me and Momo have learned some useful tracking skills in our time at Udo. We’ll help find your friend. Let’s start by going back to where the villagers found us.”

Sana reached out and stroked Sera’s hair, who had clung to her side.

“Did something happen to Jihyo-unnie?” said Sera, on the verge of tears.

“It’s nothing we can’t fix,” said Momo. “Right, Sanacchi? You should go home, little one.”

Nayeon laughed a little, feigning some playfulness for the little girl. “So you know Jihyo well, Sera, but you don’t know me?”

“She came down from the mountain a lot,” said Sera. “To check out books for you, Nayeon-unnie.”

“Don’t mind me, honey,” said Nayeon, smiling. “Please go home to your mama. We’ll find Jihyo-unnie.”

Sana took Nayeon’s shaking hand and squeezed it. “I’ve never met Jihyo,” said Sana to Sera, “But it seems like she’s the type to play past her curfew. Right, Nayeon?”

“Sana-san,” said Momo, a little stern in her tone. “Don’t be rude.”

“Let’s go, you two,” said Nayeon, getting back to her feet. “I’ll talk to you later, Sera dear. Thank you for coming up to the mountain for me.”

After they left the little girl and the village proper behind, Nayeon picked up her pace and sprinted up the trail, in the direction of Seongpanak, northeast of the mountain cottage.

“I’m putting my trust in the two of you,” said Nayeon. “We can’t waste any time. She must be alone and vulnerable.”

“Slow down,” said Momo, trailing right behind. “We’ll find her. I’ve walked all over your Mount Hallasan for the past week. If she’s tracking roe, I think I know where she might have been.”

“Please lead me to where you last saw her,” said Nayeon.


	2. page two

 

 

> _Jihyo crouched over the body of the roebuck. These horns were bloodied, sure, but upon closer inspection they must have just been dueling with another male. Could she have been wrong in her hunch? What a waste of a life. Jihyo didn’t consider herself religious, but she prayed and hoped that someone might forgive her for quite literally jumping the gun._ _  
> _ _  
> _ _This wasn’t the monster she was looking for._ _  
> _ _  
> _ _But the body shouldn’t go to waste: she can probably ask for some help taking the roebuck down the mountain. It’s been awhile since she and Nayeon had venison. Nayeon… It’s taken much longer than Jihyo had anticipated to take the buck down. She must be waking up right about now. It was time for her to head back._  
>    
>  _As she got up to go, she saw it. She gasped and got down low, sneaking back to her previous hiding spot in the rocks. The beast didn’t seem to see her. It was unlike anything she’s ever seen on the mountain, larger than the roebuck with wild markings all over its hairy body. It had probably been attracted to the commotion of the roe scattering on Jihyo’s first shot. Like a grim reaper looking for souls to reap, thought Jihyo, shivering under her cloak. But she shouldn't show fear now. For everyone's sake._ _  
> _ _  
> _ _She rolled up her sleeves and took out her bow. She nocked an arrow. But t he beast looked up._

* * *

  
  
“Jihyo!” cried Nayeon, running toward what looked like a torn pile of crushed wool. Sana and Momo followed closely behind.  
  
They found Jihyo under a stone overhang a good distance off the trail. They didn't have to look for very long. All they had to do was follow the trail of dried blood.  
  
“Oh no,” said Nayeon, tears running down her cheeks. “No, no, no. Don’t leave me, babe. Please. You can’t do this to me, Jihyo.”  
  
“She’s going to be fine,” said Sana. “It looks like she just passed out. If she didn’t treat her own wounds with that makeshift bandage around her stomach, she might have lost too much blood. But if we left her like this for even longer than that, she might have not survived. We made it just in time.”  
  
“We should get back to the cottage,” said Momo. So saying, she crouched beside Jihyo and lifted her, carefully separating her from a clinging, hysterical Nayeon.  
  
“Poor girl,” said Momo. “She is really pale. The cloak protected her, but she’s still colder than ice. Sana can treat her wounds, but we also need a strong fire.”  
  
“Snap out of it, Nayeon,” said Sana, sounding simultaneously cheerful and firm as she held Nayeon in place with a tight squeeze. “Jihyo is alive. We need to get back and tend to her wounds properly. Can you lead the way? Can you do that for me and Momo?”  
  
Wordlessly, Nayeon got up, desperately trying to keep herself from hyperventilating. She walked up to Jihyo and reached out for her hand, terrified of what she might feel. But they were right. It was a pulse, small and steady. Jihyo was alive. The coldness of her body, however, made Nayeon horribly uneasy. They had to go. Fast.  
  
“Follow me,” she said, jogging in step with Momo so that she can stay holding Jihyo’s hand.  
  
When they reached the cottage, Nayeon’s hands began to shake. She stumbled toward the door as Momo rushed past her with Jihyo.  
  
“Tell me what to do,” said Nayeon to Sana.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Just. Tell me what to do.”  
  
Sana and Momo looked at each other knowingly.  
  
“Listen to what we tell you to do while we get the house ready,” said Sana. “First, light your furnace. It seems like you guys have plenty of firewood, so make the fire intense.”  
  
“We also have a heater,” said Nayeon. “Should I turn it on?”  
  
The Japanese girls looked at Nayeon in surprise.  
  
“Jeju Island has electricity?” said Momo.  
  
“Yes. It’s geothermal.”  
  
“But how?”  
  
“Nevermind that,” said Sana. “Let's focus. We still need that fire, Nayeon, but yes, please turn on the heater as well. And bring me whatever medical supplies you have. First aid kits, medical bandages whatever. Momo, please get Jihyo ready. When you're finished I need drinking water.”  
  
As Sana gave her orders, Momo began stripping Jihyo’s layers until the girl was wearing just a t-shirt, underwear and the bloody scrap of cloak that was used to close her wound. Seeing how much dried blood there was on Jihyo’s body, Nayeon wanted to scream.  
  
“Nayeon!” said Sana. “The fire, please. Keep your mind on your task.”  
  
Nayeon nodded and wrenched herself away from the sight. She set about creating the fire in the old stone furnace in the other room. Jihyo had always started the fire before, because Nayeon had a small phobia of burning the cottage down, but having watched the other girl do it so many times, the routine was set in her mind. Before she could even think about what she was doing, Nayeon had a fire roaring in front of her. The room got progressively warmer. She stared into the flames.  
  
“Nayeon?” said Momo.  
  
“Yes? Is Jihyo okay?”  
  
“Yes, but we need to stay out here for awhile,” said Momo. “Sana is examining the wound right now. There may need to be stitches.”  
  
“Oh, god,” said Nayeon, cradling her head in her hands.  
  
“Talk to me,” said Momo. “What was Jihyo doing? Those wounds… Only some sort of animal could do that.”  
  
“Part of our job is tracking the mammals and other fauna on the island. Sometimes we’re hunters, but most of the time we’re researchers. We’re trying to keep the roe population high, for example, so Jihyo is always out on the field. She does most of the legwork, and I take care of the digital records. We’re planning a farm with the other villagers, so we’re studying the mountain in detail. Food resources from before the cataclysm are becoming scarce, after all. We need to know as much about our natural surroundings as we can, just in case the worst gets…ahem. Worse.”  
  
"Breathe,” said Momo. “You mentioned a farm. A big one, I’m assuming?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Nayeon, and gulped. “Some of it has already been put up. Jihyo was surveying the land about a month ago, when she discovered the bodies of hundreds of large animals over a period of a week. It went back to even more cases over the past year. Jihyo was investigating the cause. A rogue predator that killed recklessly had to be put down to balance the already fragile ecosystem. Just this week, she planned a stakeout. She suspected it was a big Siberian roebuck, you see. God, I never should have let her go.”  
  
Momo shook her head. “Roebuck or not, whatever created those wounds was no normal one of its kind. To kill needlessly doesn’t make sense in the ecosystem. I wonder what Jihyo found.”  
  
“Will she really be all right?” said Nayeon.  
  
“Yes,” said Momo. “Sana has been trained for such situations. Do you have tea? We’ll feel better if we both warm up.”  
  
“I can make some. Would you like ramen, too?”  
  
Momo perked up. “Oh, yes please. I haven’t had ramen in years.”  
  
“We have a big supply.”  
  
Nayeon realized what the two girls were doing, but she was thankful for being kept busy like this. If she sat still, her own condition would have gotten worse. And she needed to stay strong. Jihyo needed her. She started boiling some water.  
  
When the two had finished their tea and ramen, Sana entered the kitchen.  
  
“Before you ask,” said Sana. “I can’t allow you to enter that room. Not until she’s at least partially recovered. I did the job of cleaning and disinfecting. Jihyo was two steps ahead of us, so the wound was surprisingly well tended to. It wasn’t hard to stitch up, but I only did the bare minimum; she needs to see a medical professional as soon as possible.  My work will keep her steady, but it's still sloppy. I assume you have one in the village?”  
  
“We do, but it’s about an hour and a half on foot,” said Nayeon. “Yet another one of the flaws of living in the mountains. I knew I should have taken that practical medicine class. Thank you so much, Sana.”  
  
Nayeon hugged her. Sana lifted her arms in surprise.  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Sana. “That’s too close to my belly button. I need to wash my hands, but if you’re really thankful, you’ll let me kiss you later. Ah, no, I shouldn’t. Your girlfriend would get jealous.”  
  
“Sana!” said Momo.  
  
“I’m kidding. About the girlfriend part. You two are probably married by now, if it’s been a few years.”  
  
“Sana,” said Momo. “Don’t make me kick you.”  
  
“The world is full of cute girls, Momo,” said Sana. “I can’t help it.”  
  
“I guess the secret’s out,” said Nayeon. “Not really a secret, though. The whole village knows about me and Jihyo. But the official word is that we’re just childhood friends. I suspect that no one really bothers us about it, since we’re orphans.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Sana, dropping her smile quickly. “I was being dumb just now.”  
  
“No, I’m fine. It was a long time ago,” said Nayeon. “I’ll go to the village now, to see the doctor. I can send her an email, but she needs to be escorted up the mountain, too. Especially with that monster on the loose.”  
  
“I’ll get the doctor,” said Momo. “You shouldn’t leave Jihyo alone with strangers. We only just met.”  
  
“I think it’s better that I get the doctor,” said Sana. “My Korean is much better. The last time I left you alone, you got seriously lost. Do you have any clothes I can borrow, Nayeon?”  
  
“Uh, right. I do. Thanks again, Sana. I’m really in your debt.”  
  
Sana winked at her.  
  
After Nayeon sent the email and got a reply, she gave the Japanese girl instructions, who said “I’m like a homing pigeon!” in response to Nayeon’s worries about the confusing village layout. Sana looked quite cute in Jihyo’s red sweater and jeans.  
  
“I feel stinky all of a sudden,” said Sana, turning red. “I hope Jihyo doesn’t mind me dirtying her clean clothes.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” said Nayeon. “We have hot springs up here. We’re always taking baths and washing our clothes.”  
  
Sana and Momo looked surprised again.  
  
“This is a really nice post-cataclysm settlement,” said Momo.  
  
“Agreed,” said Sana.  
  
“We’re trying to make it the nicest,” said Nayeon. “Jeju is one of the UKR’s biggest restoration projects.”  
  
“Anyways, I’m off,” said Sana, and jogged down the trail.  
  
Nayeon watched her go. Momo came up beside her, wearing Nayeon’s own spare clothes, a cardigan over a sundress.  
  
“Your feet are too big,” said Momo. “Jihyo’s sneakers are okay.”  
  
Nayeon looked down at Momo’s feet. Shoes of all kinds were surprisingly rare in post-cataclysm society, since many of them were easily damaged and varied in sizes. Most villagers just wore slippers, since they were much easier to make. Due to the terrain, Jihyo kept all her shoes in near perfect condition. The gray sneakers Momo was wearing looked like they had just been bought.  
  
“These are very comfy,” said Momo, looking down at the shoes. “I haven’t worn shoes in years. Just boots. My feet are calloused from going barefoot for long stretches, too.”  
  
“Do you think Sana would get angry if I went in and saw Jihyo now?”  
  
“I’m still here, you know,” said Momo. “Sana is usually right about this kind of thing. I advise against it, but I’ll give in just this once and let you see her, anyway. I know how you must feel.”  
  
Nayeon got up and walked past Momo, pushing the door into her bedroom slightly, and stood there watching Jihyo’s sleeping figure. She looked like she was just sleeping normally, and didn’t seem to be suffering any immediate pain.  
  
“It makes me sick to my stomach,” said Nayeon, “Imagining what she must feel going through this.”  
  
“Go to her,” said Momo. "Go on."  
  
Nayeon walked into the room. The air was hot and dry. She came forward and kneeled on the bed beside Jihyo, hovering her body over hers. There was a sheen of sweat on Jihyo’s forehead, and her lips were parted, taking air in and out slowly. Nayeon wanted to kiss her, but knew that she shouldn’t. Instead, she placed her hand on Jihyo’s chest and stroked it as light as she could, as if any more movement would break the girl into porcelain-like pieces.  
  
She looked at the bedside table. It looked like Sana had squeezed a towel to give Jihyo water to drink. A bowl was there, just in case Jihyo woke up thirsty. The girl worked fast, thought Nayeon. She wanted to see the wound, but knew she wouldn’t be able to control herself if she did, so she left the room as quietly as she entered it, and closed the door behind her.  
  
“Tell me about how the two of you met,” said Momo, when Nayeon sat back down in the kitchen.  
  
“We were young,” said Nayeon. “I’m a few years older, so I was in middle school then. We were both at a talent agency in Seoul. I was auditioning. I saw her. I knew about her, how she had been training at the agency many years before me, but we never talked. The day of my audition was the day the cataclysm happened.”  
  
“Oh, no.”  
  
“I was told about the meteorite right after I was told that I made the audition,” said Nayeon. “The chaos that followed. I’m sure you’ve had similar experiences. I saw so many terrible things. I can’t swim well, so I nearly drowned in the Han river. Jihyo saved me. But we didn't really start dating until several years later.”  
  
Momo closed her eyes. “So it was fate.”  
  
“Mm. What about you?” said Nayeon. “What were you doing when it happened?”  
  
“On the day of the cataclysm, I was walking home from practice. I was training to be a dancer. I remember when the storm clouds appeared, that I tried calling my sister to see if she was all right, but was caught up in a stampede of people running down the street. If it wasn’t for that, if no one forcibly pushed me from that spot, frozen in fear at the thought of losing my family, I might not have survived. Everyone in that group was saved because we found one of the few safe areas in the city to take shelter in. Sana was there, too. I was glad to see she survived. I found out later that my sister and parents, too, had survived.”  
  
“Forgive me for asking,” said Nayeon. “But are you and Sana…?”  
  
“It’s complicated,” said Momo. “What’s the word for this in your language? Sana is... playful. She teases people she likes. But her true feelings run deeper, I think. For one, she seems pleasantly surprised that she has finally met people who feel what she and I have felt about the same gender for years. She and I… we’ve had our romances. If you were to describe our relationship, though, I guess you can call us soulmates, but we don’t necessarily belong to each other in the way that you and Jihyo might belong to each other. There are many factors.”  
  
“Got it,” said Nayeon. “I won’t pry. Jihyo would also be delighted to know. She can be quite vocal about our sexual orientation.”  
  
“Thank you for asking, though,” said Momo. “I think that Sana needed all this. This island. These people. Even this job that she and I have. I’m happy that she’s happy. I want you to know that I’ll be thankful more and more to you in the future. For Sana’s sake, at least.”  
  
“And not for your sake?” said Nayeon, joking a little.  
  
Momo looked into Nayeon’s eyes and smiled. “As Sana said, it’s better that I don’t mess too closely with things that are set into stone. No matter how much it might tempt me.”  
  
Nayeon instinctively covered her cheeks.  
  
Sana returned an hour and a half later. By then, Nayeon was asleep. The doctor immediately took her briefcase and entered the bedroom to tend to Jihyo. Sana was about to say something to Momo, but she sneezed instead.  
  
“Cute,” said Momo, on her third bowl of ramen. “That was quick, though. Did you run?”  
  
“I did,” said Sana. “I didn’t want to break a sweat, because of these fancy clothes, but I changed my mind halfway down the mountain. We walked back up, though.”  
  
“I see,” said Momo.  
  
“Don’t go destroying all their food, Momocchi.”  
  
“She’s had a long morning,” said Momo, pointing at Nayeon’s curled up form.  
  
“You didn’t try to seduce her, did you?” said Sana, nudging Momo hard. “I won’t forgive if you did. You lady killer.”  
  
“Stop that,” said Momo. “I feel bad that she trusts us as much as she does now. We shouldn’t joke about ruining their relationship.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Sana. “You’re right about that. I feel pretty scummy about the whole situation.”  
  
“I know,” said Momo. She reached out and squeezed Sana’s hand. “I’ll always be here for you, Sanacchi. No matter what happens.”  
  
“Thank you, Momocchi. It’s always less painful with you around.”


	3. brand new girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've retconned some name mistakes in the first few chapters. just stuff like saying "south china sea" when i meant "east china sea." also taking this opportunity to say that from now on, there'll be "episodes" in the form of chapter arcs. what i mean by that is that i'll progressively be writing longer and longer chapters as more characters are introduced. i'll also try to be better about editing my chapters. some passages... do not read well in my eyes. i'll take my time polishing this story! thank you for reading! *momo voice* i love you!

 

 

 

> **  
> ****  
> **_Tzuyu clambered across the ship deck, the water filling her rubber boots. The sky above was black fleece, obscured further by incessant rainfall. In the heavy thunder, she could barely make out the shouts of panicked sailors in various languages: Javanese, Mandarin, Tagalog, all comprehensible as one system of signs that Tzuyu understood enough of to realize that it was pointless, and the sailors knew it._  
>    
>  The ship was sinking.  
>    
>  _A cry broke through the deafening storm. Tzuyu rushed to its source. A sailor was pinned to the railing by an immense rope spool. He struggled to breathe and began helplessly drumming his hands on the spool. Tzuyu knew that the man suffered from panic attacks, and he was having one, the heavy rainwater making it impossible for him to reorient himself. A few others rushed to his aid, but they couldn’t find the leverage to remove the spool._  
>    
>  _Tzuyu stepped forward and threw off her raincoat. She gripped the railing behind her and hopped up, using both of her feet to budge the spool. It moved an inch._  
>    
>  _Tzuyu exerted her body to its limit, extending herself with as much power as she could spare. Her legs shook under the weight. Her hands threatened to slip along the length of the metal bar._  
>    
>  _The spool rolled free. The sailors standing by grabbed it and rolled it to the other side. Tzuyu helped the man up. He was from India, but Tzuyu knew what he was telling her. She’s heard it many times, in many different languages._  
>    
>  _“Thank you,” he said._  
>    
>  _He and the other sailors rushed to the center of the ship, where everyone was trying to curb the flooding. Tzuyu followed close behind._  
>    
>  _Then the ship fell on its side. Time seemed to slow, even though it all happened within seconds. Tzuyu thought that the way the water moved was beautiful; for a moment, they were shielded from the downpour by a great wave that encircled the entire vessel, before the water returned, sudden and unending, engulfing the ship and stunning her._  
>    
>  _Tzuyu was pushed into the depths of the ocean. She thought about seeing her mother again. Her father and brother. Her dog. Though she breathed the saltwater in, her thoughts flashed to a restaurant she liked to go to in Tainan, to the smoky aroma that filled the room._  
>    
>  _Then the world vanished in front of her._

 

* * *

  
  
In the weeks following Jihyo’s recovery, the cottage at the foot of the mountain was the noisiest that Nayeon had ever experienced. The doctor that treated her developed a new routine of hiking the mountain in the early morning, stopping by the cottage and using the excuse of checking in on her patient to chat and drink tea. Many villagers visited the cottage, some on business, some concerned about Jihyo’s health, and some just curious about the Japanese newcomers.  
  
Jihyo warmed up to the new girls almost immediately. Jihyo had to stay in bed most of the time, so Momo happily took up her scouting duties. Momo seemed drawn to Jihyo’s wisdom and decisiveness. She latched onto her with as much zeal and attentiveness as a puppy to its owner. Nayeon thought it was cute.  
  
Sana, in the meantime, was glued to Jihyo; the two would joke and converse for hours. She caught a cold the day after she treated Jihyo, so she spent most of her day in their kitchen. Momo picked her up in the afternoon, but not before staying an hour or two herself. The evenings were the only time that Jihyo and Nayeon really had with each other.  
  
“I feel like I’m sharing you with the world,” said Nayeon. “Only babies visit me.”  
  
“It’s because you are also a baby,” said Jihyo.  
  
“I’m being serious!”  
  
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, my love.”  
  
“It’s okay.”  
  
“No,” said Jihyo. “No, I mean like… for everything. I’m sorry that this happened to me, even after I promised you. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t care about you, or even myself, or that everything I hear from you is trivial. It’s just…”  
  
“You’re passionate about your work,” said Nayeon. “I get it. But I don’t know if I can forgive you so easily this time. I think you’re just going to have to live with my grumpiness.”  
  
She kissed Jihyo’s cheek.  
  
“That’s all you’re getting,” said Nayeon, hovering for a second before pulling away.  
  
“Aw, you’re so mean,” said Jihyo, making a T with her right hand. “I think I’ll cry myself to sleep tonight.”  
  
“Honestly,” said Nayeon, walking a short distance away from her. “I'm more concerned about the nightmares.”  
  
“Nightmares?” said Jihyo. “I’m not sure what you mean.”  
  
“You toss around in your sleep,” said Nayeon. “You say things. You say them like you’re afraid. It’s been happening for several days now.”  
  
“Do I do that?” said Jihyo, furrowing her eyebrows. “I guess I don’t remember if I do. Have nightmares, I mean. I feel all right.”  
  
“Are you sure?” said Nayeon.  
  
“Positive,” said Jihyo. “What kind of things do I say?”  
  
“Stuff,” said Nayeon. “Random things. You talk about flowers and water. Some of it I’m unsure about, but the parts I am sure of are... scary.”  
  
“Omo,” said Jihyo. “I’m even talkative in my sleep. I blame Sana. Maybe shouting Japanese curse words at the top of my lungs every day isn’t so great for my health.”  
  
“So do you think it’s still out there?”  
  
“Yeah,” said Jihyo. “It probably has a hiding place. I did get two arrows into it, though I suspect they were like scratches to the thing. When you see it out in the wild, you can’t forget what it looks like. Like something out of a folktale. White as snow, but definitely not an albino, judging by its eyes. It almost looks like it’s been painted white. Its horns are incredible. I was lucky to escape with my life. Er. Sorry. I’m not lucky. I mean I am, but I don’t mean that I’m glad I got hurt. Please don’t be even more mad at me.”  
  
“Too late.”  
  
“Pwease fowgive me, Nayeonnie?”  
  
“No,” said Nayeon, and got on the bed and lightly punched Jihyo’s shoulders. “I hate you. And you’re putting Momo at risk here, too, you know.”  
  
“Momo will be fine,” said Jihyo. “She’s smart and she’s quick. She knows that the beast is dangerous. I’ve told her as much as I can. She won’t try anything until we have a plan. Hopefully, I’ll be able to move around when we find it again. Oh, that rhymed!”  
  
“You did not just tell me you plan to go back and find it.”  
  
“I have to confront the beast,” said Jihyo. “You know it’s my responsibility, Nayeon. Who else will take it down? I have to. Before it hurts anyone else. And next time, I won’t go alone. In fact, I want you and the other girls to go with me.”  
  
“Ugh,” said Nayeon, and left the room, nearly colliding with Sana, who was standing outside with a concerned expression.  
  
“Sana?” said Nayeon. “You scared me. I thought you went home.”  
  
Sana shushed her, and pointed at the walkie-talkie in her hand. Every cottage came with a pair of rechargeable hand radios, a leftover staple from the storerooms of the old national park, back when the mountain was a tourist hot spot.  
  
“Sanacchi?” said a voice from the radio. It was Momo. “Are you there yet?”  
  
“I’m here, Momocchi,” said Sana. “They’re listening to you now. Go ahead.”  
  
“Right,” said the radio. “Nayeon? Jihyo? If you have energy to come down the mountain for a bit, I need your help. It’s an emergency.”  
  
“What is it?” said Jihyo to Sana, who relayed the question.  
  
“A body washed up on the shore,” said the radio. “I don’t know how long she has been out here, but she is still alive. Unconscious, but very much alive. I’m warming her up right now. But there’s something I want you to see. And I need your help to avoid the villagers.”  
  
“The villagers?” said Nayeon. “Why would you need to avoid the villagers?”  
  
Static.  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
-  
  
It took a lot of fuss from Nayeon about Jihyo bundling up and covering her wound, but they managed to go down the mountain with Sana. The sun was setting by the time they reached the village. Nayeon was glad they brought flashlights. They walked along the perimeter of the reserve, and down into the sunken areas of Jeju City, where Momo was waiting for them at the end of a fifteen minute walk across an uninhabited flatlands.  
  
Momo sat at a campfire ringed with stones. A pale girl, wrapped in Momo’s old fur jacket, lay beside her.  
  
“It’s like you’re good at finding injured girls, Momo,” said Jihyo. “Who is she?”  
  
“Whoever she is,” said Sana, “She’s very pretty. Isn’t she, Momocchi?”  
  
“She’s also on the brink of death,” said Momo. “We have to get help for her. But there’s a small problem. Take a look.”  
  
Momo gestured to what looked like a round table. No, thought Nayeon. It was a giant, wooden spool of what must have been rope, but now there are only frayed strands attached to it.  
  
“She washed ashore with all this debris,” said Momo. “How do you say this? The rope from that thing over there. She tied herself to it, and hung on, letting it carry her across the ocean. A really bad idea, if you ask me. But it worked. She’s heavily bruised, but otherwise she’s okay. This is the real problem, though.”  
  
Momo pointed at the girl’s body. There was a tattoo in blue ink on her exposed neck. Nayeon recognized it.  
  
“The five-pointed star hollowed out by a circle,” said Nayeon. “I always see it in UKR newsletters. It’s the emblem of the South China Blue Wave.”  
  
“Pirates,” said Jihyo.  
  
“She must have been shipwrecked,” said Nayeon. “Hold on. They did report a heavy, static monsoon off the eastern coast of Korea this morning. She might have come from the east. Possibly Japan.”  
  
“There are pirate’s coves all along Okinawa,” said Momo. “It’s definitely possible.”  
  
“If the villagers see the tattoo,” said Sana. “They won’t ask questions. Right, guys?”  
  
“It’s definitely a different situation from you two,” said Jihyo. “There are bandits, and then there’s the Blue Wave. The tattoo is a sign of instant distrust these days. Most coastal damage in the fertile region isn’t from storms anymore, but from these guys. I am honestly debating saving this girl. They’re killers.”  
  
“I’m saving her,” said Momo.  
  
Jihyo stared at her. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for, Momo?”  
  
“Yes,” said Momo, making a circle with her hands. “It’s like this shape. I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling I get when I look at her.”  
  
“Then I’ll trust you,” said Jihyo. “You did save my life, after all. This girl is your responsibility now. We’ll help you take her to safety.”  
  
“Wait a minute,” said Nayeon. “Jihyo, we have to bring this to the attention of the village. People’s lives are at stake. Even if she really did come from a shipwreck, she might just be the first of many. A fleet could be arriving at Jeju-do.”  
  
“Be patient,” said Jihyo. “We’ll follow Momo’s instinct here. We can ask questions later. Besides, you said it yourself, Nayeon. There’s a storm out there. It’s more likely that the Blue Wave are sailing on safer waters.”  
  
“Unless that’s what they’d like you to think,” said Jihyo.  
  
“If I may cut in?” said Sana. “It’s just a rumor we heard from the fishermen in Udo, but me and Momo have reason to believe that Jeju-do is safe from the Blue Wave.”  
  
“Why is that?” said Nayeon.  
  
“There’s word that they’re preparing for a big seige,” said Sana. “They’ve been attacking settlements all over the ocean, but whoever is commanding them is gathering everyone together and aiming for something bigger. Taiwan.”  
  
“Taiwan?” said Nayeon. “That can’t be right. What’s in Taiwan?”  
  
“Almost nothing,” said Sana. “It’s one of those places most heavily hit by the cataclysm, and it’s very close to the source. But according to these same rumors, there’s a small slice of land on southern Taiwan perfect for settlement. And it’s relatively safe. In other words, it’s the perfect base for a pirate fleet that wants to dominate all of the fertile scar in the Pacific.”  
  
“Aside from that,” said Momo, getting up and crouching close to the unconscious girl, “This girl has other strange things about her. Things that point to her innocence. I’d like to get her to safety so I can ask her more questions.”  
  
Jihyo closed her eyes. “I’m going against my own instinct about this, but I’ll stick to my word and allow it.”  
  
“I have to admit this much,” said Nayeon. “You did save Jihyo. If you want to take responsibility for her, then it’s out of our hands. We’ll help you. But if the villagers ever find out, I want you to leave me and Jihyo out of it. Understood?”  
  
“I understand completely,” said Sana. “I don’t fully trust this way of doing things myself, but I’ll always support anything Momocchi does. No matter what. If anything happens, we’ll take on the blame.”  
  
“Then it’s agreed,” said Momo, and picked up the girl. “She’s actually pretty heavy. She looks frail, but there’s lots of muscle here.”  
  
“Let’s go,” said Jihyo, and stamped out the fire.  
  
They returned to the village, flanking Momo on all sides and walking swiftly. When they reached the entrance to the Gwaneumsa trail, Jihyo gestured for everyone to stop and standby. She left the group and returned ten minutes later, a roll of medical bandages in her arm.  
  
“Jihyo!” said Nayeon. “Bandages are precious. They can’t be made in the conventional way anymore.”  
  
“I know, I know,” said Jihyo. “We’re borrowing them. These can be reused. I told the village doctor I wanted to keep some by my bed, just in case. Bring her over here.”  
  
Jihyo cradled the girl in her lap and cleaned her neck with a towel and some rubbing alcohol. Delicately, she began wrapping the bandages over her tattoo, until her neck was amply concealed.  
  
“People are usually home by the time the sun sets, so there shouldn’t be witnesses,” said Jihyo. “But just in case we run into anyone, she’ll be safe. Our story is that she washed ashore.”  
  
The trail was quiet all the way up the mountain. When they reached Sana and Momo’s cottage, they gathered some blankets in storage and bundled the girl up.  
  
“Oh,” said Momo, unwrapping the girl’s bandages. “It’s a good thing I decided to look more closely. Look at this, girls.”  
  
Momo pointed at the blue star on the girl's neck.  
  
“It’s a brand, isn't it?” said Sana. “Not a tattoo. Somehow, it was hard to tell in the light of the campfire. Someone stamped this on her. ”  
  
“She might be a slave,” said Jihyo. “I’ve heard rumors about the Blue Wave’s manpower, but this more or less suggests that she might have been taken against her will. That, or it's much easier to get a brand than a tattoo. Either way, you’d think we’d be beyond such things now. Piracy and slavery, I mean.”  
  
“If she really isn't one of them, then I feel like I should apologize to her,” said Nayeon. “With all the cohesion going on in the mainland, it's hard to be reminded that people still have bad intentions in the world. Will she be okay?”  
  
“All she needs is warmth,” said Sana. “Something I’d be happy to provide if electric heaters didn’t exist on this island, and if I wasn’t sneezing every other second, and if I wasn’t already warming Momo in the night. She should heal in time. It’s a miracle she looks as healthy as she does. She could easily have succumbed to exposure.”  
  
“She’s come a long way,” said Momo, brushing the girl’s bangs aside. "For the time being, let's be quiet on the subject. Let her explain things herself."  
  
The girl seemed to respond, mumbling in her sleep and flushing with color.


	4. brand new girl pt. 2

_Tzuyu dreamed of a storm. But it wasn’t the storm that sank her ship. She remembered the shape of that one. No. This was something bigger._ __  
__  
_There were other people, girls close to her age sitting around her in a little boat. Seven of them? No, eight. But there was something odd about one, almost as if she was hiding from the others, so it seemed like seven. One of them, not the odd girl, lay completely still in the center of the boat. The others watched the still girl. They were sad. Tzuyu was also sad, for reasons she can't explain. Tzuyu looked up at the sky._ __  
__  
_It was the cataclysm. The fifty year storm. Gargantuan, dark as night, and terrible._ __  
  
_And they were all sailing into it._

 

* * *

 

 

Tzuyu woke to the sound of loud coughing. She was covered in thick blankets. She threw them off and sat up. Her hand instinctively reached behind her, grasping at nothing. The smell of ginseng throughout the room brought her to her senses. That’s right. She was rescued a few days ago by strangers. But where was she? She only got the chance to walk around once, but one of the girls living there seemed to discourage her from going outside. Tzuyu reasoned that it had to do with the mark of the Blue Wave on her neck.  
  
The girls. A few of them were Japanese, but this surely wasn’t Okinawa. Or was it? It must be close to Korea, so it could be any number of places. In fact, it seemed like it could very well be Jeju Island. But that would be impossible. Because of where the ship was taken under, it would be a miracle for her to survive being adrift for so long.  
  
Tzuyu’s thoughts melted.  
  
The ship.  
  
In one minute, everyone and everything she knew was gone. Though she didn’t know any of the sailors, they all shared the same hopes. She curled up in the blankets and stroked the prayer beads bound to her wrist. How long would her curse last?  
  
A girl walked into the room with a serving plate of hot tea. She kneeled beside Tzuyu.  
  
“So you’re awake,” she said, setting the teacups on the wooden floor. “Sorry if I was loud. I’m coming out of a cold, but I still have this cough. It’s been bothering me for weeks now. It took an awful lot of effort to get your health back up, but at least you aren’t as fussy as Jihyo. You’ve met Jihyo, right? She’s the one with the cute face. I know, right? Very descriptive of me. In the off chance you don’t remember who I am, my name is Sana.”  
  
"どうも,” said Tzuyu, and took a cup of tea.  
  
“Thank you, huh? That’s really all you can say, isn’t it?”  
  
Tzuyu turned a little pink.  
  
“Don't be embarrassed about it. You can feel comfortable around me,” said Sana. “This may be somewhat invasive, but have you ever kissed a girl? A quick way to cure embarrassment is to kiss me on the lips. Don’t look at me like that, I’m only kidding!  Mostly! But I mean it when I say you can be comfy. Just think of me as your older sister. Or your mom. Or is that too weird? Anyway, I’m here to help.”  
  
Tzuyu nodded and sipped her tea.  
  
“So you can’t really speak the language, but you mostly understand,” said Sana. “Fine. Good. No worries. I’ll teach you how to speak more Japanese. And Korean too, if you’d like. Perhaps one day you can tell me where you came from. How you came to Jeju-do, and all those nice backstory things.”  
  
Tzuyu nodded again. So it was Jeju Island. She was stranded and far from her destination, but she was lucky to be alive.  
  
“Ah. Don’t concern yourself about it all. Focus on your recovery, and answer questions at your own pace. For the record, I trust you. Enjoy your tea. I’ll be back later.”  
  
Tzuyu watched Sana go. As soon as she was sure she couldn’t hear her anymore, Tzuyu got up and walked outside.  
  
“Hold on,” said a voice.  
  
The girl outside was sitting on a chair by the door and stringing a bow. If Tzuyu remembered correctly, her name was Momo.  
  
“If you want to go, you can ask one of us,” said Momo. “We’ll listen. What is it? Do you just want to walk around? Or do you want to get away from here? I’d normally say you’re free to go wherever you want, but you might be in a lot of danger if you leave this area. We’re more or less protecting you, you know.”  
  
Tzuyu slowly lifted her hands and pantomimed an action.  
  
“So you just want to walk around? Feel free. But come back here when you’re done. I really mean it when I say that your life is in danger once you leave. The people of this island will not ask questions. You can understand me when I say that, right?  
  
Tzuyu nodded.  
  
“Okay. I’ll be here.”  
  
Tzuyu walked a little ways from the cottage. She took the mountain trail down. She stopped when she saw another cottage just around the curve of the path. She crouched down and listened to the voices. It sounded like two girls shouting at each other in Korean.  
  
Tzuyu made her way past the cottage, keeping low and sticking close to the bushes growing along the trail. She had to get off Jeju Island, even if it meant escaping the safety of this mountain. She was running out of time.  
  
“Jihyo, don’t!”  
  
What looked to Tzuyu like a gray blot ran out of the cottage.  
  
“Nayeon, I’m sorry,” said the figure, wrapping her cloak around her. “The village is in danger. If you see Momo, tell her I went ahead.”  
  
The other one, who Tzuyu figured must be Nayeon, stumbled across the cottage threshold, falling on her knees. The first figure, Jihyo, hesitated, but ended up sprinting down the trail. She was carrying a bow like Momo’s.  
  
Nayeon cried out. It was painful to hear. Tzuyu didn’t have time. Tzuyu had to go. She slid past, and watched the girl in the cottage curl up, her sobs shaking her body. Tzuyu needed to move on!

She approached Nayeon’s crumpled figure. Nayeon looked up, seemingly unfazed by Tzuyu’s sudden appearance. She thought she looked more worn out than distraught, like she hadn’t had much sleep.  
  
“I can’t stand right now,” said Nayeon, smiling through her tears. “It’s my legs. They're like jelly in tense situations. It’s been like this since before the cataclysm.”  
  
Tzuyu held her hand out. Nayeon shook her head and politely pushed the hand away, though she didn’t let go.  
  
“I know we just met, but can I ask you a favor? Can you please help Jihyo? I don’t want her to go alone. I know you can help her. I just have this feeling that if she goes by herself, she won’t make it back. Can you understand me?”  
  
Tzuyu nodded.  
  
“Thank you,” said Nayeon.  
  
Tzuyu ran down the mountain trail. It was easy to track Jihyo’s path; the soap she used smelled excessively fruity, like a billion bananas. Tzuyu went off trail and down a slope. Before long, she heard voices. And screams.  
  
She spotted Jihyo in the distance, crouching at the edge of what looked like a human settlement. Tzuyu paused momentarily to take in her surroundings. There were still buildings in a place like Jeju-do? How did the island manage to stay so developed? Jihyo seemed to be watching something intently. Tzuyu followed her line of sight.  
  
A massive, white boar with shimmering, black stripes like claw marks, cantered on the paved road beside the settlement. It stood almost eight feet tall, and was proportionately just as wide, yet its movement was lithe, almost deer-like. Onlookers scattered as it charged them and swung its impossibly large tusks.  
  
Tzuyu recognized the boar. It was a mythical creature, a qilin. She always thought they were just fairy tales. The real thing was incredible to behold.  
  
Tzuyu felt a chill run down her back when she spotted a man on the pavement, nursing a bloody knee, and trying desperately to crawl away. The boar turned around and let out a growl that sounded like the earth was about to open up. It charged at the prone man.  
  
The air whistled.  
  
The boar stopped in its tracks and let out a long whine. An arrow was sticking out of its left side.  
  
Jihyo drew another arrow, but the beast had noticed her, and galloped quickly up the hill toward her hiding spot. Before Tzuyu could do anything, the beast arrived and swatted Jihyo aside with the flat of its tusks, her body colliding with a nearby tree. Jihyo shouted out and clutched her side.  
  
“N-no,” she said. “I’m not letting you get away again, you bloodthirsty pig.”  
  
She nocked another arrow but the boar, seeming to have figured out the root of the problem, rushed forward and struck Jihyo’s bow aside with one swift flick of its head. By then, the villagers with weapons had caught up with the boar, but stood at a safe distance as it hovered dangerously close to Jihyo.  
  
Tzuyu jumped on the boar. Confused, it bucked wildly around, but Tzuyu still held on. She reached behind her waist. Still nothing. She quickly patted her ankle. Nothing there, either. The boar tried swinging its head around. Not so fast, thought Tzuyu. She reached out and pulled on its large tusks, locking its head and preventing it from doing nothing but vibrate in frustration.  Something had angered this qilin, thought Tzuyu. A creature like this can’t walk in peace among human beings. She had to lead it away.  
  
With one upward bound, the boar threw Tzuyu off. She tucked her knees in and rolled down a slope. At the bottom, she found a long stick. She swung it above her head and pointed in the path of the approaching boar, who ran into it hard, the wood splintering in its face. Tzuyu jumped on the boar again as it stumbled down the slope. She gritted her teeth and stabbed the stick down. The boar squealed.  
  
Tzuyu dismounted and watched as the now one-eyed boar turned and ran off. It was now or never. The qilin was going home, but Tzuyu had to follow it and make sure it never hurt anyone again. She ran up the mountain after the animal, hoping that Jihyo behind her was okay, and was being tended to by the villagers.  
  
On her way, Tzuyu passed Sana and Momo’s cottage. No one was home. Momo’s bow and arrows, however, were still on her chair beside the door. Tzuyu took them and continued in tracking the boar.  
  
It took a few hours of stalking up the mountain, and even Tzuyu’s especially strong legs were ready to give out, but the boar’s movement eventually relaxed. Tzuyu could finally see the back of the boar. Every now and then, it whined in pain. Tzuyu felt sorry, but she was convinced that the qilin had a sickness that consumed its mind long ago. She’d seen something like it before, though she can’t remember when that was. Such a monster continuously sought out ways to alleviate its mental pain, even if it hurt people. Tzuyu knew that it was already beyond recovery.  
  
Tzuyu and the boar were close to the summit, the fog gathering thick around them. Mysterious lights floated around her. Were these also mythical creatures? Some appeared to play with Tzuyu’s hair. Others danced by the boar’s ear. The boar, however, seemed preoccupied with what lay at its feet.  
  
It was a small pond dug into the mountain. Lying beside the boar was a dead roebuck, long since expired. The boar blinked slowly at the still waters, content at whatever it saw with its half-sight. Brought to calmness, the boar nestled its entire mass in the dirt, and closed its eyes.  
  
After awhile, Tzuyu said, “You’re the only one left in the world, aren’t you? You’re alone. You don’t have anyone else. No family. No friends. But you knew where home should have been. All you wanted to do was go there, but you got hurt along the way. Isn’t that right? It’s the same for me. And I’m sorry I hurt you.”  
  
The boar waited. Nothing would move it from that spot ever again.  
  
“You want me to do it,” said Tzuyu. “You want me to shoot you. How can I do that to you? How do I live if it’s just me? What will I do? Should I even keep going?”  
  
The boar was silent.  
  
“If you don’t have the answers to my questions,” said Tzuyu, “Then who does?”  
  
The fog came down slowly, covering the boar’s body. The lights danced.  
  
“I don’t want to be alone,” said Tzuyu, letting the tears flow freely now. “Everyone is gone, and I don’t want to be alone.”  
  
Tzuyu let an arrow fly, even though she knew the truth behind the fog; the last qilin on earth was already gone.

 

***

  
“You’re so strong, unnie,” said a child, swinging on one of Tzuyu’s outstretched arms. “You got the monster like. Pow. Bam!”  
  
“Weren’t you scared?” said another, clambering on her back.  
  
Tzuyu kept a perfect posture despite the constant flow of village children. Many of the villagers, in fact, were crowded around Tzuyu, asking questions in various languages. Tzuyu only answered in Chinese.  
  
“The other parts of Jeju-do might not be so kind,” said the father of one of the children, to Jihyo, who was balanced on a pair of crutches, “But this sector of Jeju-do is full of ex-Blue Wave fleet slaves. We recognize our people when we see them.”  
  
“I never knew,” said Jihyo.  
  
“The UKR has long since known the existence of cattle, as we’re called by Blue Wave officers,” he said. “These days, not many people will willingly join a band of murderous pirates. We were the fluff that convinced others that the Blue Wave was powerful. I was snatched from my old family, myself, and made to work in a farm on the Chinese coastline in the year of the cataclysm. She probably escaped from her situation much like I did. Anyway, we don’t talk about it much for a reason. You mountaineers did the right thing.”  
  
“I’m glad we got that confirmation,” said Jihyo, watching Nayeon storm down the steps to the village proper fifty meters away. “It makes sense why everyone was so protective of bandits. It really renews my sense of purpose in rebuilding Jeju-do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.”  
  
Jihyo crutched herself to the safety of the library. Nayeon power walked toward her.  
  
“Tzuyu-unnie,” cried the Jeju-do children in unison. “Show us some tricks!”  
  
Tzuyu stood as still as a statue.


	5. precious love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please read this before reading this chapter. i invite you to review the tags on this work before proceeding...
> 
> first of all, happy new year! secondly, i am very sorry about this chapter. it's heavy... but i've been planning a plot development like this since i began this story. so it's not random. there's a reason for everything that happens to the girls on hallasan mountain. i hope everyone keeps reading. there are many more developments to come. thank you...

* * *

 

>   _“_ _The work at Jeju-do focuses on revitalizing the ruins of Jeju City, a joint project with the natives and the Unified Korean Republic,” said Dahyun, circling the northern part of the map with her pointer. “This is where the New Jeju-do Village is located. It’s powered by the latest in geothermal technology, researched here in Seoul. We’re the only country in the world with such technology. The local government is very loose, and consists of council members appointed by the UKR, as well as naturalists who act as judges and mediators. They live along the old mountain trails. Those are here, here and here. We had a construction team renovate the mountain reserve for ease of access over the past five years. It remains one of the biggest projects the new Korean government has overseen since the Cataclysm. Can anyone give me the name of this project? Yes, Lee Chaeyeon. Go ahead.”_
> 
> _  
> _ The girl sitting at the front of the lecture hall stood up. “The Jeju Energy Relocation Initiative,” she said. “Or JERI, for short.”  
>    
>  “That’s right,” said Dahyun. “I’m sure that by now you know that our relationship as a country with Jeju Island has been rocky, to say the least. Early on in the Cataclysm, we saw the potential of Jeju-do as a point of reconstruction. It was one of the least disaster-affected regions on the Korean peninsula. We had to form a partnership with the existing local government in order to begin the foundations of what may very well be the future capital of Korea. JERI was born, as a result of that need. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that all the work we’re doing here in the mainland is more in support of Jeju’s reconstruction than the mainland’s.”  
>    
>  Dahyun smiled, and scanned the lecture hall. She spotted Chaeyoung sitting in the corner. It was odd for her to visit.  
>    
>  “There are many dry areas in the mainland,” said a student. “Why aren’t we working as hard to rebuild those areas?”  
>    
>  “Good question,” said Dahyun. “Two reasons. The first is political. I don’t have to remind everyone that we lost everything during the Cataclysm. No one  and no place was untouched. There are some people that believe that the ones who didn’t lose as much should give to those who have, which would normally be the model for a good society, but not when resources have been drained to their extremes. Dry land is a premium. If we reconstruct those neighborhoods, the original inhabitants will claim them, instantly elevating their lifestyle, which would leave millions of people bitter. If we lease them out randomly, the result will be the same. Either of those outcomes would create a class system of power. With the UKR’s goal of diffusing such accumulations of wealth and class tensions, Jeju-do is both symbolically and literally an area of neutrality.”  
>    
>  “The second reason,” continued Dahyun, “Has to do with resources. The mainland has very little. In fact, even with our country’s population cut dramatically since the Cataclysm, we are still struggling to maintain our survival. The island will provide most of our future food resources, which are slowly taking the place of the perishables we salvage every day. In short, Jeju-do is our primary lifeline. Without the existence of JERI, who knows what might have happened to our peninsula. Right. That’s a good ending point. For your homework, try to think of what might have happened if we hadn’t signed JERI into being. If you have any more questions, see me in my office. Thanks, guys! Make sure to take all your stuff with you. This room’s currently serving as a transitory shelter in the evenings.”  
>    
>  Dahyun gathered her materials and waded her way through her dispersing students until she reached Chaeyoung. The younger girl had her hair cropped to her ears and wore an unbuttoned school uniform jacket over a t-shirt and slacks, the mark of a UKR officer.  
>    
>  “What’s wrong, Chaengie?” said Dahyun. “You don’t look well.”  
>    
>  “We have to go see Supervisor Yoo,” said Chaeyoung. “A special meeting. You know what that means, right? I knew that it was only a matter of time.”  
>    
>  So soon? Dahyun thought the timing felt a little orchestrated. Either way, it’s what she and Chaeyoung signed up for, so there was no helping it. “Well, let’s see her before we jump to conclusions. Come on.”  
>    
>  They climbed the stairs and left the lecture hall. Seoul lay before them, a giant river running through a concrete forest. Most of the province was submerged in sea water. Paddle boats were tethered all along the upper floors of the university where the building met the water. The school had long functioned as one of UKR’s primary outposts.  
>    
>  Chaeyoung and Dahyun went into a supply closet and put on their rainwear. When they were done dressing, they found a free boat and hopped into it, riding the current to the other side of campus, where the control center was.  
>    
>  “Do you think we can appeal to stay?” said Chaeyoung.  
>    
>  “Not likely,” said Dahyun. “And aren’t you even the smallest bit excited? It’s dry land, Chaeyoung. Dry land! I can barely even remember the first time I saw a patch of dirt.”  
>    
>  “I’m already used to it here. Think of how bad the journey will be. A solid week of traveling, I’m told.”  
>    
>  They arrived at the control center, the university’s astronomy tower. They tethered the boat to the walkway and covered it with a tarp from a small pile by the entrance.  
>    
>  Supervisor Yoo was sitting at her desk inside the tower, an imposing woman with long, brown hair. She was only a few years older than them, and despite Chaeyoung and Dahyun  themselves already reaching adulthood, she seemed almost ten years more mature. A map of Seoul lay before her, peppered with thousands of board game pieces.  
>    
>  She wore headphones. Dahyun never saw her without the headphones on. She spoke softly into a microphone.  
>    
>  “Good morning,” she said into the microphone as they crossed the threshold. She waved for them to sit in the chairs in front of her. “Rainfall today is at 57% for downtown Seoul. We’re looking at clear skies starting Tuesday of next week. This dry spell will last three days, so plan accordingly. Headquarters will bring updated news, so be sure to check your email if you have one. Thank you, and sail safely.”  
>    
>  “Good morning, Supervisor Yoo,” said Dahyun, and they bowed in unison. The supervisor  stood and bowed in return.  
>    
>  “It’s good to see you two,” she said, sitting back down. “I’m sure you already know what this meeting entails. There’s only one reason I would call you into the control center outside of UKR duties.”  
>    
>  “I don’t want to go,” said Chaeyoung.  
>    
>  “Chaeyoung!”  
>    
>  “I might as well be honest,” said Chaeyoung. “If possible, Supervisor, please pick two others. I’ll only accept it if there are no other choices.”  
>    
>  “Very well,” said the supervisor. “You don’t have to go, Son Chaeyoung. You’re Chief Flood Control Officer, and we can accommodate your absence with someone with mere apprentice level knowledge. Your best friend, though, she’s Chief Provisions. The standards there are high, and she’s the only one qualified.”  
>    
>  “I go where Dahyun goes,” said Chaeyoung. “Fine. I'll go. I don’t like it, but I'll go.”  
>    
>  “Cooperation is the only thing keeping the UKR in working condition,” said Supervisor Yoo. “Be sure to remember that the next time you refuse what’s been assigned to you. No one will stop you, but we need to all be united in this. I won’t lecture you any more about it, because I’m sure you’ve heard the older adults say the same exact things.”  
>    
>  “I know, I know,” said Chaeyoung. “No more complaints from me. I’ll go with her.”  
>    
>  “Thank you, Chaeyoung,” said Dahyun, squeezing her arm.  
>    
>  “You will leave on Monday, after the storms calm,” said Supervisor Yoo. “Take this time to pack your things and train your next-in-line. You’ve chosen one, haven’t you?”  
>    
>  “Jeon Somi,” said Chaeyoung. “She knows the waterways pretty well now. Probably even better than me.”  
>    
>  “Lee Chaeyeon,” said Dahyun. “The girl’s knowledge is impressive, but be patient with her. She’ll be excited to hear the news, and she has a good attitude, but she’s the type to overwork.”  
>    
>  “I approve of your recommendations,” said Supervisor Yoo. “The two of you have done such amazing work. It’ll be sad to lose you both. But it’s exactly for that reason why you’re being sent. All we can do now is thank the two of you for your dedication.”  
>    
>  Dahyun and Chaeyoung bowed.  
>    
>  “You were a good chief officer, Supervisor Yoo,” said Dahyun. “Though we will be separated physically, I hope that we can all keep in touch.”  
>    
>  “Actually, I’ve been promoted recently. I’ll see you two sooner than you think.”  
>    
>  “Promoted?” said Chaeyoung.  
>    
>  “The UKR has made me the new correspondent over there.”  
>    
>  Dahyun gulped. It hasn’t even been six months, but they’re choosing a new correspondent. The rumors as to the disappearance of the previous correspondent were numerous, but most reports blamed the newfound boldness of the Blue Wave pirates on the southern shore.  
>    
>  Though Supervisor Yoo didn’t easily betray her true emotions, Dahyun couldn’t help but feel pity for her. She was sure that the supervisor was feeling many things underneath that poker face.  
>    
>  “Congratulations,” they said in unison, and bowed again.  
>    
>  “Thank you.”  
>    
>  “Excuse me, Supervisor,” said Chaeyoung. “But can you remind me what the estimated travel time will be?”  
>    
>  “Oh, right,” said the supervisor. “You will be testing a new route planned by the naval committee. Speedboats. We’re trying something new in evading pirate patrols. You’ll be there in a matter of days.”  
>    
>  “Sp-speedboats?” said Dahyun, becoming a little paler than she already was.  
>    
>  “You’ll be fine,” said Chaeyoung, rubbing her shoulders.  
>    
>  “I’m calling this meeting,” said Supervisor Yoo. “Thank you once again, you two. I’ll be sure to report this to the higher ups. I’ll see you at Jeju Island in a few months’ time.”

 

* * *

_  
_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_ Tzuyu had many talents.  
  
For this reason, the villagers kept coming back up the mountain to ask her favors. Over the course of several weeks, Tzuyu effortlessly shoed horses, repaired broken railings, dragged netloads of fish to shore, and babysat children. One time, she was even called to be a witness to a village wedding ceremony, despite not knowing anyone there.  
  
Momo and Jihyo seemed to dote on her as if she were their own daughter. The first time they watched Tzuyu shoot arrows in the practice field, having been the only accomplished archers in the mountain up to that point, they were in utter awe. Tzuyu didn’t miss a single shot. Sana had a flirty attitude with Tzuyu, and taught her as much of the language as she could. Nayeon was the only one that thought her presence was a little suspicious. But even her doubts were thrown out the window every time Tzuyu came over to visit.  
  
There was a natural symmetry and poise to Tzuyu that made her seem very princess-like. In fact, she suspected that this is partly why the villagers called her down the mountain so much. She was like their goddess from across the ocean. Nayeon couldn’t help but be drawn to her for the same reasons others were.  
  
Still, there was one thing Nayeon couldn’t forgive her for. _  
_ _  
_ Yun Sera idolized Tzuyu. All the village children did. This bothered Nayeon, since she and the little girl seemed to hit it off the first time they met, and she was known in the village for being great with kids. Tzuyu had replaced her.  
  
Sana coughed a little.  
  
“Are you still sick?” said Nayeon, setting her flowering pot down. “It’s been a long time. Maybe you should see the doctor.”  
  
“Well, it comes and goes,” said Sana. “I guess I’m not used to the elevation yet, or something. I hate it. It keeps me inside most days. I feel like I’m not really contributing while I’m here.”  
  
“It’s not like you owe us anything,” said Nayeon. “You and Momo are only guests here, after all.”  
  
“Friends help each other out, regardless,” said Sana. “Speaking of Momocchi, have you seen her? I thought she went out with Jihyo earlier, but I saw her recently and she doesn’t know where she is.”  
  
“I think she’s with Tzuyu. My morning is free, so I’ll follow up with them. And don’t think that you don’t do your part, Sana. Your work with the village council is really helping the UKR headquarters out. You have excellent recollection of the local tides. You could train to be an oceanographer for our country if you wanted to.”  
  
“I was born on a beach,” said Sana. “It’s only natural for me to know what goes into making one.”  
  
Nayeon entered the village a little later. After talking to some of the villagers, she discovered that both Momo and Tzuyu were attending a self defense class as guest instructors.  
  
She arrived at the building just in time to see Tzuyu start her own lesson.  
  
“Hello, everyone,” said Tzuyu to the class. She gave a little bow. “My name is Tzuyu. I’m a foreigner.”  
  
It was as if all the village was in attendance. The class was usually attended by people in their twenties, including Jihyo and Nayeon at various times in the past, but Tzuyu’s audience consisted of pregnant mothers, the elderly, almost all the longshoremen Nayeon knew by name, tons of small children, and even more teenagers than the latter combined.  
  
Tzuyu spoke carefully.  
  
“Uhh. Anyone want to come here?”  
  
“I think she wants to show by example,” said Momo. “Come on up!”  
  
A lanky young boy walked to the front, egged on by the other boys his age. Nayeon recalled him being one of the Taekwondo students. He assumed a fighting stance and smiled dazedly up at the taller girl.  
  
“What I will show,” said Tzuyu, half to the audience and half to her opponent, “I learned from other countries. There is more than one way to defend. I combined all these ways. Ah. Do you not…?”  
  
She looked at the boy and patted her elbows.  
  
“For if you fall?”  
  
“Don’t you wear protective padding?” said Momo. “She’s worried you might get hurt if she goes full force.”  
  
Despite the taunts of his black belt friends, the boy had personally watched Tzuyu jump on a monstrous boar and live, and one week later pull a runaway horse to a full stop, so being a seasoned fan of Tzuyu’s work in the village, he did as he was told and put on his safety gear.  
  
“Okay,” said Tzuyu. “You can go to me now.”  
  
The boy approached and shouted. He opened with a kick that went high enough to reach Tzuyu’s head, but Tzuyu responded by bending her torso away from the arc of the kick, catching the kick in her right arm, and sweeping the boy’s standing leg with a light counter kick. Tzuyu disengaged and allowed the lanky boy to fall on the practice mat. The audience gasped. Nayeon managed to catch what Tzuyu did, but it was such a fast reaction, the taekwondo student looked like he had just tripped on his own leg.  
  
Tzuyu held out her hand to help the boy up. The boy seemed too distracted by it to process what had just happened to him.  
  
“Um,” said Tzuyu. “One must be confident when you fight a kicker. If you run, the kicker will catch you. If you hesitate, you will get kicked. You have to stand still and watch carefully. You have to move with the shape of the kick, then send it back. After you respond, you move in and finish up. Uh. Like this.”  
  
Tzuyu threw a few punches. Nayeon greatly admired the precision of her attacks. It was like a dance.  
  
“If you strike the right areas,” said Tzuyu, indicating various vital spots on her own body, “The enemy will fall.”  
  
“They seemed to like it,” said Nayeon to Tzuyu, after the class was over.  
  
Tzuyu nodded and smiled a little. Tzuyu demonstrated many things in her time slot, to the point that even the self defense teachers wanted her back the next week.  
  
“My lesson was pretty fun, but falls short when compared to Tzuyu’s demonstration,” said Momo. “I was teaching basic swordsmanship. Kendo. Something I also want to teach Tzuyu. Imagine what someone like her can do with that knowledge. Ah, I feel so proud looking at you. Good job, Tzuyu.”  
  
“Thank you...”  
  
“Sana was looking for you, by the way,” said Nayeon.  
  
“Oh, Sana,” said Momo. “Very well. Is she at your place?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Tzuyu,” said Momo. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell your Auntie Sanacchi I’ll be up there soon?”  
  
Tzuyu pouted, seeming to realize she was being babied by Momo, but nodded anyway, and went ahead of them.  
  
“She’s like Wonder Woman, that girl,” said Nayeon. “It’s really impressive. But also cute.”  
  
“We are living in Miss Popular’s shadow,” said Momo. “Do you want to come with me? I’m doing something for Jihyo.”  
  
“Where is Jihyo anyway?”  
  
“You didn’t see her? She’s in some sort of village meeting down at the library.”  
  
“Ah,” said Nayeon. “That does happen sometimes. Sure, I’ll come with. I’m not doing anything important today. It’s my day off.”  
  
“No gardening or fieldwork to do?”  
  
“I’ve recently finished up my biggest report yet on the mountain,” said Nayeon. “I think we can cultivate a plant up here that will be able to produce the kind of things trees normally produce. Like paper, and even some medicine. Super useful. I outlined a plan to renovate the mountain without messing too much with the ecosystem.”  
  
“That’s really good,” said Momo. “Not many trees in the mainland. Not much plant life at all, actually. I’m sure there’s this big thing about oxygen in the atmosphere.”  
  
“The shortened version is that we have enough oxygen in our planet’s atmosphere. For now. Slowly and surely, we’re revitalizing the planet.”  
  
“I see,” said Momo. “That’s really cool. You and Jihyo are just casually saving the planet from the comfort of this beautiful island. I honestly feel like I’m in paradise.”  
  
“It isn’t all happy and fun over here, though,” said Nayeon. “Despite Jeju-do’s reputation of being a stable place to live, we do get the occasional superstorm. We had one just last year. It was tough, and there were a few casualties, but our fantastic flood control and disaster prevention team prevented it from getting any worse. The old man who leads them lives on the other side of the mountain, next to the dam. You’d like him. He’s as strong as… well, Tzuyu.”  
  
“Wow. I’m surprised we haven’t met him yet.”  
  
“He doesn’t go out as much as the other mountain people,” said Nayeon. “He keeps to himself. What are we doing, by the way?”  
  
“I’m doing some tracking work for Jihyo,” said Momo. “It seems like the roe are behaving strangely. Jihyo has her theories, but she wants to know what their exact path on the mountain looks like, which shouldn’t take long. Me and Jihyo are on the same wavelength with this. I noticed it awhile ago, too, so I’ve mostly formed a picture.”  
  
They walked up the mountain trail, stopping every once in awhile for Momo to crouch down and look at the ground.  
  
“Any updates on Japan?” said Nayeon.  
  
“It’s the same situation,” said Momo. “We are on standby. The government in Honshu wants to move us as soon as possible, but has also decided our position is equally as important. In other words, we are performing our duties in advance of our training, which is still valuable.”  
  
“What are your duties exactly?”  
  
“Hmm. How do you say this in Korean? We are seeing if Jeju-do is good or bad. Like Santa Claus deciding who to give presents to.”  
  
“You make that sound like we’re about to go to war with Japan,” said Nayeon. “But I understand your position.”  
  
“Thank you,” said Momo. “We’re actually under a lot of pressure now. I think some of it is getting to Sana.”  
  
“How is she?”  
  
“She’s… hanging in there,” said Momo. “I’m sure you’ve noticed it yourself, haven’t you? Sana’s sickness. I suspect it’s mostly in her head, whenever she’s under a lot of pressure. In fact, it’s only happened once before, and before coming here, she hasn’t fully recovered from the first time. This might be the result of not properly treating that previous cold. This is what worries me.”  
  
“Is there anything we can do to help?”  
  
“Just be there for her,” said Momo, and turned to look at Nayeon. There were little shards of color in her dark eyes, twinkling in the gray light. “I’m always by Sana’s side. Whenever possible, whenever you can spare yourself, please be by her side, too. I trust you and Jihyo now. If anything bad happens to me…”  
  
“Momo...” said Nayeon. “Is there something wrong?”  
  
Momo slowly approached Nayeon and reached out her hands to cup her face. Nayeon, frozen, allowed Momo, whose actions suggested an intense curiosity, to come closer. Momo hovered, her breath now forming plumes along Nayeon’s neck, the warmth reaching her chest. Nayeon shivered, her hairs standing on end as the wind pierced through her. As if she had felt it herself, Momo perked up and met her gaze. Her eyes were unfocused, cognizant, yet distant, shifting their gaze into and beyond Nayeon. Their lips met.  
  
Nayeon relaxed as Momo gripped her. Before long, she missed her chance to break away, and instead found herself reciprocating; she latched on to Momo’s neck, lacing her fingers lightly. After a moment, they released each other simultaneously.  
  
Momo backed away, and caught sight of Nayeon’s shaking hands.  
  
“No,” said Momo. “No. I didn’t want to do that. I don’t know what came over me.” She reached out and tried to calm Nayeon’s shaking, but it was a brief, awkward gesture, as if Nayeon had suddenly become as fragile as porcelain in Momo’s eyes.  
  
Tears started to fall down Nayeon’s face. Her head was a raging hurricane of errant thoughts: how pleasant it was to be kissed like that, how attracted she was to Momo, how horrible she felt, how Jihyo might react if she ever found out, (oh no oh no oh no). Uninvited, the monsters of her past lined up and reared their ugly heads to stare her down.  
  
“I’m sorry, Nayeon,” said Momo, casting her gaze down, and holding back her own tears. “I’m really sorry.”  
  
Before Nayeon could say anything, Momo jogged ahead of her up the path until she was out of sight.  
  
Jihyo. Nayeon’s heart went out to others, and she became attracted to other girls sometimes, but she was entirely devoted to Jihyo. She was the love of her life. Knowing that about herself, why had she reacted to Momo’s advance like that? There was a confusion that she couldn’t put words to, and it ate at her core. The guilt erupted until Nayeon was kneeling on the floor of the mountain trail, her face buried in her arms, choking out painful sobs.  
  
Later, in a post-breakdown haze, she sat on a rock beside the trail and closed her eyes.  
  
She had to tell Jihyo. She owed it to her. She owed so, so, so much to Jihyo. If Jihyo was going to hate her for the rest of her life, even that would be better than feeling so rotten inside. The thought of how undeserving she was of someone like Jihyo, who returned Nayeon’s childish feelings when they were growing up in the orphanage, who Nayeon viewed as a superhero, almost brought her back to tears.  
  
Her thoughts, however, were cut short by Jihyo’s sudden appearance.  
  
Jihyo strode up the path, her bow hoisted around her body, and looked lost in thought until she noticed Nayeon.  
  
“Nayeon!” said Jihyo. “Is everything all right? Is your leg okay?”  
  
“Ah, yeah,” said Nayeon, brightening up immediately. “I’m just resting. What’s up? How are you?”  
  
“I’m doing okay,” said Jihyo. “But I have something important to tell you.”  
  
“I also have something to say, Jihyo. But I’ll let you go ahead.”  
  
“You might want to stay seated,” said Jihyo. “There’s been an accident. Old Man Heungseo, our chief of disaster control, has... passed away. His body was found near the summit. It seems like a wild animal got to him. Me and the council convened to decide what to do in the aftermath. It seems like we will be getting people from the capital after his funeral to act as his permanent replacements.”  
  
“Oh my god,” said Nayeon. “That’s horrible news. How is his family doing?”  
  
“They’re fine. His wife seemed angrier than sad. But it’ll be different at the funeral, I’m sure. It always is. They’re going to be taken off the mountain and relocated to an empty house in the main village, which has been Heungseo’s retirement plan for years, so that will be in full effect. In the meantime, we will be taking care of some of his posthumous affairs.”  
  
“I see,” said Nayeon, shaking her head. “I'm... not sure what to make of all this. This is so bad.”  
  
“By the way,” said Jihyo. “The wild animal in question? I took a look at his body. It has to be something as massive as that boar that Tzuyu hunted down. Could even be related to it.”  
  
“Jihyo…”  
  
“I know what you’re going to say,” said Jihyo. “This scares me, too. From now on, we’ll be hunting in groups. Me, Momo and, soon, Tzuyu. We will be as safe as possible. When either or both Momo and Tzuyu leave, we’ll ask the UKR to relocate us. No more risks. No more gambles.”  
  
“Relocation,” said Nayeon. “What would we do? We love our jobs. We love this mountain.”  
  
“Anywhere is fine,” said Jihyo. “As long as I have you with me, Nayeon.”  
  
“I love you, Jihyo,” said Nayeon.  
  
“I… love you too,” said Jihyo, blinking a little.  
  
“What? Was that weird of me to say?”  
  
“Usually when you say things like that, you’re also bullying me a little. It’s strange to hear it like that.”  
  
“So? Can’t I be openly sincere about my love for you every now and then?  
  
“I’m not saying that…”  
  
“Jihyo, can we sleep together tonight? I know I tend to move around in bed. Will your injury be okay if I cuddle close to you?”  
  
“It hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt that much. You hit my legs more than anything when we sleep together, anyway. I’m fine with it. I miss sleeping with you.”  
  
Nayeon giggled. “As long as you’re okay with it, I’m okay with it.”  
  
“Did you have something important to tell me?”  
  
“That _was_ the important thing,” said Nayeon, and gulped everything else she wanted to say down.


End file.
